because what else is there to do in life if not messing around with your mouthpiece

hook-ah - Joji

[and a dumb sounding titlte sorry] Mmm, a scenario request where you’re smoking hookah with Joji. (it’s rather short, hope it’s ok) Also, I have no idea how this works as I’ve never tried it, so I hope you’ll forgive me. 

***

Taking a deep breath, you’re trying to calm yourself down. Through the smoky haze of the substances you two were consuming, you watch the handsome boy in front of you. It was rather dark, the purple curtains surrounding you preventing any light to come in; and successfully drowning you in the spices of the vapours around you. Your eyes start to water, not used to so much smoke—but, for Joji, you’d endure anything. You rub at your eyes, trying to get rid of the sting, yet you feel as if you’re going to lose a lot if you do that. You didn’t want to miss the sight of Joji puffing out the smoke because it was…

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Ten Things Elementary School Taught You That Are Absolutely Useless

DEAR ELEMENTARY SCHOOL,

I’ve got a few things to discuss with you.  I think you didn’t prepare me as well as you think you did for this whole “real world” bullshit. 

Sit down. 

1)  The Recorder: Remember when my parents paid like…twenty bucks for that long white or black plastic instrument that had a mouthpiece and random holes and was called a recorder?  And I walked around the house playing “hot cross buns” for twenty fucking hours every day because my music teacher had convinced me that I was a good musician but only taught me one song because the class as a whole was too disabled to learn anything else?  How many times have I walked into an interview and been hired for playing that fucking annoying song on that shitty plastic recorder?  Remember when it got spit in it?  And I had to clean it with that fucking pipe cleaner?  And it started to have bite marks from hitting me in the fucking teeth?  Thanks fourth grade.

2)  Volcanoes: I swear to God if my kid has to mix baking soda and vinegar inside a piece of shit papier-mâché volcano to learn that you shouldn’t fucking stand near a volcano because that shit explodes I’m gonna lose it.  Pretty sure that was just you being lazy and getting back at me for being a little shit by making me clean up the mess afterwards.  I’m pulling my kid out of class that week.  We’ll learn something more productive, like taxes.  Or how to make excuses to get out of paying bills on time.  

3)  Indian names: Hold on, I’m sorry “Native-American” names.  You know what my Native American name was?  Wise Beaver.  Wise fucking Beaver.  I was NINE and you basically named me “intelligent vagina.”  I can name a few examples from college that can totally contradict the shit out of that name.  Everyone else had some shit like “Gentle Bear” or “Babbling Brook.”  This is when my life started to go downhill.  Try putting “Wise Beaver” on your resume.  Let me know how that works out for you. 

4)  THE LAST TIME I WROTE IN CURSIVE WAS IN THIRD GRADE. YOU MADE US DO IT FOR THE ENTIRE YEAR.  I NEVER DID IT AGAIN.  YOU KNOW WHY? BECAUSE NONE OF THOSE LETTERS LOOK LIKE REAL FUCKING LETTERS.  YOU KNOW WHAT I LEARNED?  HAND CRAMPS.

5)  Computer Lab: I assert to this day, that the only thing I ever learned from Oregon Trail was that Grandma was always going to die, and even though I could shoot five million buffalo, I could only take one buffalo head TOPS without my entire fucking wagon falling apart on me, resulting in my entire family catching diphtheria.  And fuck that dude at the beginning who never told me what to buy from the general store.  It’s 2014 and I don’t know how to survive in modern times because of all the fucking hours I wasted in computer lab fording the river.  

6)  Dioramas: Do you know what Dioramas were good for?  NOTHING.  I essentially wasted time building SMALLER versions of things that I would never actually be committed enough to build, or things that other people had already built.  Congrats.  I spent seven hundred dollars on supplies from Benjamin Franklin’s or some other craft store that smelled like twigs and cinnamon and fucked up half my clothing with glue for some shitty little shoebox box with a miniature tree in it and some army men that I disguised as pioneers. 

7)  Snack time: I’m pretty sure everyone had snack time and it alternated every day and every kid was supposed to make snacks for everyone else in the class and it was supposed to be healthy and fun and half of our parents bought Gushers from Costco or threw together some celery with peanut butter and some raisins and called it something ridiculous like “ants on a log” or “little pieces of shit on a green thing.”  You know what you should have taught?  How to make an edible meal from all the random condiments I’d have in my fridge at the age of 25 while waiting for next week’s paycheck.  “Hey everyone, tomorrow little Tommy is going to bring in some Top Ramen and teach you all how to cook it in the microwave because the gas got turned off last week.”

8)  Show and Tell: This shit was stupid.   The rich kids were always like,  “My Dad makes more money than yours.  This is my new purse.  Here is some more shit that my parents bought for me.  I’m going to grow up to be a materialistic asshole who enjoys kale smoothies and doesn’t tip servers.”  The poor kids were like “Today I found a stick on my walk to school because my family doesn’t have a car.” 

9)  Tetherball: Tetherball isn’t and wasn’t a real sport.  It’s a way to hit the people I didn’t like in the fucking face, because they were being particularly annoying, and Becky made fun of my dress and the stockings my mom made me wear.  Time to knock Becky the fuck out. 

10)  Valentine’s Day:  Remember when I had to make a Valentine for everyone in the class because if I left people out their feelings would get hurt and they would cry and the world is a happy place where that never happens in real life?  So I gave creepy Gregory in the corner a Valentine and he stared at me while melting crayons in the window?  Remember how I’m alone in the world as an adult and love is hard to find and sometimes I cry myself to sleep because now I don’t get any Valentines and maybe if I’m lucky my mom will send me some candy and a card that says “At least I love you!”

Thanks Elementary School.  You were the best.

Signed,

Quarter Life Crisis

We’re back, kids. 

Look alive.